The Dangers of Looking
by QuasiOuster
Summary: Michonne's on a stopover at the prison, and Daryl shows her what a little awkward, post-apocalyptic romancing looks like. Takes place between seasons 3 and 4.


_**Author's Note: Still no ownership of The Walking Dead or its vast empire. There's no profit or infringement to be found here.**_

_**I wrote this last night in one go very quickly, so it's the usual brand of rough around the edges since I didn't want to spend too much time editing it. I wanted to depict some lighter moments between Michonne and Daryl that also reflects that relaxed familiarity that they have with each other. _**As always, I started off only meaning to write a short scene and then my craziness took over.**_**_

_**I know I've slowed down on my other stories, but I promise I'm still at work on them as time permits. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy.**_

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><p>The voices droned on around him, and Daryl listened with half his attention. Normally, he didn't mind Council meetings since it usually meant they were getting stuff done. Today hadn't seen him in the mood for it, though.<p>

He cut his eyes to the window in the corner and noted the dimming light, the sky spotted with a few stray clouds. If they kept on much longer, he'd have to wait until morning to help Rick move those supplies from the storage shed into Tower 3. Commotion behind him in the hallway signaled a mass entrance from the back door, probably Karen and the rest of the folks on fence duty. They'd almost finished picking off the walkers at the perimeter when he'd come inside to sit in on this meeting.

Tapping his thumbs against the back of the chair he straddled, he frowned at Carol's not-so-gentle poke with the back of her pen. Her smirk meant she wanted him to pay better attention instead of letting his mind stray when the Council got to talking about something that bored him. Keeping focus wasn't usually much of a problem; Merle had been the one whose mind tended to wander all over creation ever since they'd been little. For whatever reason, this meeting tried his patience and he was having trouble staying interested. He leaned into his chair and picked up the train of conversation, confirming that they weren't talking about anything of importance to him at the moment. He'd heard it all before and said his peace on it; now he'd give everyone else a chance.

Unfortunately, checking back into the conversation got him locked up on what he'd been trying hard not to fixate on in the first place—and it had nothing to do with Sasha's questions or Hershel's looks of concern.

No, he'd become distracted because Michonne was now leaning over the table giving him a moving target for his eyes and attention. Watching the contours of her figure on full view in front of him grabbed hold of his focus and wrangled it into submission. Damn this woman sometimes.

As much time as she spent away from the prison, Michonne had never been considered for a spot on the Council. However, her knowledge of what the rest of the world got up to beyond the edges of their gates made her a frequent contributor to their meetings when she'd roll through town, so to speak. Presently, she'd gotten deep into explaining some of the things she'd spotted on her last trip out—an untouched lumber yard, signs of a small group passing through the area, a shift in walker activity beyond the forest edge to the south.

Sasha glanced from Michonne's face as she talked, to the map where she pointed out the areas referenced in her report. That girl always got intense about this kind of business. When anybody brought up something that meant a good run or a sizable threat, she'd get on it like a dog with a bone. It made her a bossy little thing but also a sharp teammate to work with when it came to getting shit done. Glenn paid close attention to Michonne's report as well, asking a question every now and again. He and Glenn went on runs together all the time, Maggie too. The old school crew they'd call it. But he and Glenn both had more of a laid back time of things that came with having to count on each other when it counted. If something was to come of all this talking, he trusted Glenn to know every last detail.

Hershel didn't say much of anything, but he never did until everybody else finished saying their peace. He'd nod and sit back, taking it all in, sometimes absently rubbing at his mangled leg or running a hand over his full beard. It's like he had the final word on whatever they discussed as a group, which was the way it should be as far as Daryl figured. On the other hand, Carol only listened with half an ear since runs and stuff didn't really concern her as much. She continued writing out the work rotation lists for the prison, glancing up every now and again to take note of something said before returning to her papers.

Of course, he'd already gotten the low-down from Michonne soon after she'd ridden in late yesterday evening so it meant he didn't have much to contribute other than bringing up the topic and giving his two cents. Michonne already knew his thoughts, which they'd broken down together in detail.

And when they'd been satisfied about what to bring to the Council, she'd crawled into his bed and shown him what he'd been missing for the last two weeks.

So, yeah, seeing that body he'd been pawing at for half the night stretched out along the edge of the table got him stirred up in ways that didn't feel right in polite company. This relationship stuff, or whatever they'd been playing at, was new to him, and he tried his best not to be all stupid about it. That didn't stop him from staring at his girl like the thirstiest man alive drooling over the last glass of water on the planet. She shifted a little to mark a spot off on the map and he followed how her muscles tensed a little differently, emphasizing how well those skin-tight pants showed off her fantastic ass.

Daryl generally tried not to look at a woman the way he was looking at Michonne because who was he to be treating some lady like she was his? Alls it did was cause trouble, either from the woman not liking it or her man taking issue if he happened to get caught at it. Except he'd gotten so used to looking at Michonne like that that he forgot himself sometimes. He had to remind himself that _he_ got to be the one to start shit for other dudes looking at her the way she only allowed him to. He stared at her for a little longer, licking his lips as he swept his gaze from head to foot and back again. Then he shook himself out of his trance. It felt as if time had slowed down while his eyes took in Michonne's gorgeous display of toned perfection.

He glanced around nervously to see if anyone noticed his lapse, but everyone remained intent on their task—all except Hershel who returned his stare for a moment and suppressed a smile underneath his bushy beard. The man did love to rib him and Michonne. They both had a surprisingly jolly relationship with the man. Daryl looked away quickly and started tapping against the back of the chair again, much to Carol's annoyance.

The meeting dragged on, and at the end of it, they decided to gather a group to pick off some of the lumber and also tell Rick to move his animal traps a bit to the west as an adjustment for the heavier walker activity. When everybody started gathering up their stuff, Daryl was the first to hop up from his chair and begin returning the room back to order for when the kids gathered to get their daily schooling. As Michonne folded up the large, weathered maps she'd brought with her, he lingered at his task, trying to be cool about the fact that he was waiting on her. Sasha and Glenn walked out still arguing about whether they needed to train more people to do runs; Hershel laughed at their bickering and then climbed slowly to his feet to follow. After straightening up the chairs and picking up her paperwork, Carol narrowed her eyes at him with a devious grin on her way out the door. No doubt he'd have to hear her mouth later on about trotting after Michonne like a damn puppy. And even though it pissed him off to think of the ribbing, he couldn't even deny it, nor did he have any plans for it to be any different.

Finally, he walked around to the table as Michonne finished gathering her things. Leaning against the table with his arms crossed, he stared at her, now openly. After a moment, she dropped the maps and stared back, her hip also leaning against the table's edge. The jostling sent her pencil rolling along the table and she quickly stretched to catch it before it got too far and teetered off the other end.

Once again, he found his eyes caught up by the silhouette of her lithe body decked out in close-fitting, rugged attire. He followed her toned arm as it reached for the pencil, rich, dark skin flowing from shoulder to the tips of her pale fingernails. The muscles in her back contorted underneath her leather vest; the movement hitching the edge up oh so slightly and dragging up the hem of her cutoff knit sweater underneath. She'd shed her thick jacket while inside; it probably lay thrown across her bunk back in her cell. Most women he'd touched skin-to-skin were cool, clinging to him for warmth with a whole bunch of whining about cuddling or some such bullshit. But Michonne ran hot, a damn inferno that felt good on a cold night in close quarters.

He let his gaze linger on that patch of skin above her waistband, now exposed for him to ogle. It'd only been a few hours since he'd gripped her there; the memory of it made him tighten up and shift around until he finally propped himself up on the table for a better view of her. The woman did have the best ass he'd seen in a long, long time, if ever. And he knew from personal experience that, in his hands, it felt as good as it looked.

"Stop staring at my ass," she said having retrieved the pencil and returned to her original standing position.

"Stop putting it all up in my face like that then."

She rolled her eyes at the sight of his accompanying smirk and turned to the side, thereby cutting off his visual access to her backside. "I'm not 'putting it all up in your face' by merely existing. Get a hold of yourself."

"Might like it better if you got a hold 'a me instead," he let slip before he could stop his words. Watching her really had done a number on him.

Narrowing her eyes at him, her scowl turned into a grin as he bumped her leg with his knee. "Listen to you. And to think that you used to be all shy and awkward around women."

He bit into his lip. "Still am, really. Just not with you. You wore me down." Her eyes softened and he noticed a tenderness to her expression, so much better than seeing that pissed off look, even if it wasn't real. "And don't pretend you aint happy to stir shit up by walkin' around here in those pants you know I like."

She scoffed. "I don't wear these pants to please you, Daryl. I wear them because they're the only kind I own and because they're practical."

"Yeah, practically indecent," he teased. She cocked her head to the side and crossed her arms, that fake pissed off look back in action.

"Anyway, I'm gonna go finish my chores before I need to head out again. These indecent pants aren't going to wash themselves." She grabbed her maps and turned to leave, except he grasped her arm loosely at the wrist before she could get away.

He could have pointed out that she didn't _need_ to head out nowhere, but he well realized what kind of shit-storm that'd stir up. Instead he halted her by sporting a pout he knew she couldn't resist.

"Hold on now. Why you tryin' to run outta here so fast? Always in a hurry to get somewhere."

"I thought you liked the view of me leaving?" she snapped back, a playful twinkle in her eye. She had him on that point.

"Wouldn't say I like it," he muttered and glanced away briefly. Again, that heavy conversation about her running out into the bigger world all the time would wait for another day. He stared back up at her, a small grin at his lips. "More like an appreciation."

"Uh huh." She let his fingers trail from around her wrist to tangle with hers in an idle clasp. She swiveled to place the maps back on the table and then turned to stand in front of him and situate herself between his open legs. With her free hand, she caressed his cheek and hair before settling her grip on his thigh.

They didn't do this too many times, this open expression of affection. Mostly they held back because Michonne wasn't around a lot to be affectionate with in the first place but also because he'd never been the kind of guy that liked folks in his business, commenting on his personal affairs. The two of them petting each other all over the prison would certainly have folks talking more than they already did about what went on with them.

"So," she said, "if you don't want me running out on you right now, what do you want from me then?" He opened his mouth to respond only to have her whisk a hand up and place a solitary digit against his lips. "Watch that dirty mouth of yours, Dixon. I'm a classy kinda girl." She traced the smile that grew along her steady finger. He brushed her away, taking that hand and squeezing it before letting both go to instead grip the table. He couldn't explain why but her closeness had him suddenly turning jumpy and anxious. She must have picked up on it because she backed up a bit, although he was glad she didn't step away completely.

Bowing his head, he let the silence hang between them. All those weeks out alone together had gotten her used to waiting him out, letting him come to things at his own pace without pressuring him. This moment was no different.

He shrugged and picked at a nick in the wooden table. "Don't know what I meant by it. Just thought we should, I don't know, take advantage of some alone time or somethin'." He let a strangled laugh slip out. "It aint like I know what the hell I'm doing here."

Michonne frowned. "You don't need to be doing anything particular, Daryl. At least, I'm not asking that." She let her fingers graze at his knee, a subtle request for his attention. After a beat or two, he looked up into her face to see for himself that she meant no particular expectation from him.

They'd been fooling around for months, since those times when they'd been out on the road searching for the Governor. It became an occasional thing after he'd left her to her wandering without him, yet it pulled at the both of them to recapture some of that intimacy they'd come to really enjoy with each other. A few weeks ago, in the space of a few words and a night sitting up with each other, they'd decided to simply accept the attraction between them and be open about it, not flaunting it but not hiding it either. Rely on it just like all the other good things that had brought them a sense of peace in their new lives: for Michonne, having people to protect and having folks like Carl and Rick to confide in; for him, having a family in Carol and Rick and all the others while he discovered a belief in himself and a belief that doing the right thing suited him.

Glancing towards the door, he noted the stillness in the hallway after the others had left. The farther-reaching sounds of people wandering around the cell blocks only touched their ears in distant echo. Daryl sighed and looked away again.

"I mean, I know we decided the other week to be together or whatever, but am I supposed to take you on a date or somethin'? 'Cause I don't know shit about that kinda thing. I see Tyreese puttin' some romance on Karen and she's eatin' that stuff up. Thought maybe you might be wantin' some 'a that too."

She chuckled. "Pegged me for a flowers and candy kind of girl, did you?"

That pleasure he got at the sound of her laughter drew his eyes to her once more. He grinned at her amusement. "More like walker kills and chocolate. Probably get on your good side by scorin' you some M&Ms."

"Probably," she said, suppressing a broader smile. He liked the fact that he had a sense of what brought out some honest to goodness excitement in her. Only Carl was better at it than him. And they both knew that junk food was high on that list.

After a few moments, her expression sobered. "I don't need anything special, Daryl. You do you." He nodded. "Unless _you_ wanna do some dating." The playful way she bumped a gentle rhythm against his leg with her knee forced a blush to his cheek."

"Hmmph, wouldn't know the first thing about it," he muttered. She waited him out again. "Just don't want you thinkin' I aint into you or whatever," waving a hand as if to point to all the things in his mind he figured he should be doing for her.

Her motion against him stopped and instead she leaned slightly forward and rested her leg against his. "I'm pretty sure you're into me, don't worry. Do you think I'm not into you?" He didn't answer right away; he didn't really know how. She took note of his response and looked away herself.

Truth was, yeah, he did think that sometimes. With the way she'd wander off at the drop of a dime, he couldn't help but be paranoid that he wasn't enough to keep her around for more than a few hours at a time.

After the silence started to get a little awkward, Michonne said, "I didn't meant to—"

"—I know, it aint nothin'."

"It's something," she insisted. When he didn't respond other than to stare blankly down at where their knees touched, she coaxed his eyes up with the gentle pressure of her fingers against his chin. "It's something." Again, he nodded.

"I was just thinkin', you now." He leaned into her a bit to pick at the stitching along her vest. "If you aint got nothin' better to do right now, we could go walkin' along the fences, make sure there aint something that looks fishy." It's not like the perimeter check wasn't something he did on a regular basis anyway, and since she liked to keep up with their security measures, he figured she wouldn't mind keeping him company. "It's gettin' late and there's a spot 'round back that catches the light real nice when you hit it at a good time." He could feel his cheeks flushing again, trying to compensate for his heart damn near beating itself out of his chest.

Michonne took his hand from where it had moved to rest along her thigh and pulled him to his feet. She pressed herself against him and offered a brief but sensual press of her lips to his. The kiss snuck up on him and he stiffened in surprise, but he quickly returned the soft pressure with a bit of added enthusiasm.

"I think I'd like taking a little afternoon walk with you to watch the sunset." Another kiss followed, and then she stepped back completely. "It's a date."

In a rare showing of gentleness, Daryl brushed her hair off her shoulder, caressing his thumb against her neck before pulling back. He'd gone out on a limb giving voice to his wants like that. This kind of payoff sure felt worth it. He couldn't imagine that being with her would ever stop feeling worth it to him.

He reached around for her maps and handed it to her with a smirk. "Well, don't get used to to all this lovey-dovey foolishness. Might get you all spoiled, and I aint gon' sniff around after ya like Zach does for Beth."

She smacked him in the shoulder as he shrugged on his jacket and vest. "Don't hate on young love. And just when I thought you were the resident romantic."

After she turned to head towards the door, he surrendered to the urge to get his hands on her. The smack he delivered to her backside filled the library's dusty emptiness. Michonne only laughed. "Don't you start, Dixon." The leer she flashed him over her shoulder had him at her side and soothing his offending behavior. In his mind, he told himself it didn't count as groping since he was righting a wrong. She didn't contradict him.

"I'm startin' to think you like it when I start stuff."

Her laughter echoed in the hallways as they headed for the exit into the courtyard. Shaking her head, she said, "Again, with the boldness. Yeah, give you a little encouragement and you turn into the ultimate mack." She pushed open the outer door and held it for him. "I'll have to reward you for the efforts."

It was intimidating as hell, but Daryl kind of liked the sound to that.

They wandered side-by-side across the concrete parking area into the high grass of the fields. "Now what would Daryl Dixon find thoughtful and romantic?" she mused to no one in particular. "Maybe a new shirt with the sleeves pre-cut. Or a razor?" She tugged at his chin hairs and he dodged out of the way with a grin "You're right. That's more for Rick. His face situation is getting out of control." Their pace slowed and they kept their eyes trained just beyond the fencing area. "Hmm. Pet possum?"

"More like dinner," he shot back.

"Well, it's _kinda_ like a dog. And you know you're never getting a dog, no matter how much you beg Santa—I mean Hershel." That pulled another smile from him. They continued on, taking in their surroundings but happy to be in each other's company in the moderate evening weather.

"How about moonshine?" Daryl shot her a glare. They'd found a shitload of the stuff a while back in some shitty cabin; they'd meant to go back for it at some point. And it had taken only a couple of shots for him to start acting like a fool for her, which she loved but he still resented for how embarrassed it still made him feel.

"Well, you're not getting cigarettes so don't even ask."

"Now that'd get you some good lovin'."

"No doubt," she responded, flashing him a side eye.

They killed a few stray walkers at the fence and Michonne continued to suggest more and more ridiculous overtures of her affections to return with after her next run. When she'd run out of options, they strolled in silence, chatting about some random thought or observance from time to time. This part of her is what helped him believe in second chances. It's what he missed all the days she was off chasing after a crazy asshole on a trail that had cooled and then gone stone cold in the months since his disappearance.

They got to a deserted part of the yard next to Tower 2, and he pulled her inside. When they reached the top, they both leaned against the railing and looked out onto the prison grounds at the sun that inched its way behind the horizon. It filled the sky with oranges and blues and an occasional streak of purple. Carol called it the kind of sunset that kept her looking up at its beauty and not around at the death they faced everyday. He'd seen this view hundreds of different ways over the years, and it hadn't meant a damn thing until he'd found these people he could share it with.

"See. Told ya I'd find a good spot. Now be nice and maybe I'll offer you my jacket since you strolled out here dressed for a damn pool party or something."

As expected, her radiant and familiar smile appeared at his playful mocking. She'd long ago gotten used to it. "I guess I won't have to worry about you getting overly sentimental. You can keep your grubby clothes." For a brief moment, she leaned into him and rested her chin at his shoulder. "All the rest, though? Probably my best date in ages," she uttered with a lovely sincerity. He immediately missed the nearness after her retreat. She returned to standing next to him, close but still at a slight distance so customary for them despite their intimacy.

Daryl wasn't a cozying up type so he didn't try to put his arm around her or slip in some moves like he'd see in the movies and TV. He did take her hand in his though. Cuddling wasn't his thing but he didn't think himself above a little hand-holding.

"What you mean, 'probably'? You out there playin' the field?'

That sexy grin again at their banter. "Oh yeah, those walkers might not be great conversationalists, but they know how to make a girl feel wanted."

"I knew it. I'm 'a keep my eye on ya now." It felt as much like home as anything else hearing her laughter mixed in with the sounds of the trees and the wind rustling nearby. He closed the distance between them and took comfort in the warmth of her skin against his arm.

Together they stood, watching the sun go down. Anybody that passed by would have called them two warriors watching out for their people on a breezy spring evening. To each other, it was that and just a little bit more.

_Fini_


End file.
